gerard could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw how completely miss davison appeared to have forgotten his very existence the moment the american came up.
denver, on his side, treated his rival as if he had never seen him before. gerard thought, indeed, that the young american had perhaps failed to recognize him. for neither he nor rachel had been speaking for some moments when they were startled by the figure appearing between them.
but that miss davison should behave with such marked incivility puzzled and bewildered him. not the usual gracious smile and bow of farewell did she vouchsafe him as she walked away, listening amiably to the eager talk of the american, smiling in answer to his remarks, and behaving exactly as if she were enjoying his society to the utmost.
gerard wondered what it meant. was she a coquette? she had never given the least sign of it with him, having always been straightforward even in her reticence, not pretending that there was no mystery in her way of life, but treating it as one that she could not clear up, and that she wished him to leave unsolved also.
[212]now, however, she was certainly behaving as if she were encouraging the young american; she was animated, charming, sweet, and she was evidently aware that he was fascinated, and pleased by the fact.
yet she had but a moment before been touched, tender, serious, moved by gerard’s emotion, and ready to consent to think over the passionate avowal which he had made.
now it looked as if she had never had a serious thought in her life. gerard could hear her rippling laugh, could see the lively movements of her hand and head, which showed that she was talking as eagerly to denver as he to her.
he watched them until they had almost disappeared, and then he suddenly set his teeth and resolved not to be thrown off in this manner. he would follow them, go up to the group of which they formed part, join them and the rest of the van santens, and find out, if he could, whether denver was looked upon as the accepted lover he certainly appeared to think himself.
he knew very well, as he approached the group of which the primly dressed and gentle old new england woman formed the center, that he was very foolish to come so near the candle, and that he was risking the singeing of his wings. but miss davison’s attraction for him was stronger than his prudence, and a few moments after she had gone away[213] with denver, gerard found himself talking to old mrs. van santen, and listening to cora and arthur aldington as they flirted merrily on one side of him, and to miss davison and denver, as they talked eagerly and apparently with great seriousness, on the other.
delia van santen, watchful and tactful as ever, was the least talkative of the party, over whom she kept a watchful eye, ever ready to avert discord and to put in a pleasant word if disputes threatened or if conversation languished.
only one member of the family was missing: this was harry van santen, the elder brother, and in gerard’s opinion, by far the least prepossessing member of the family. he was at his club, the others explained; and nobody appeared to miss him.
miss davison did not turn once in gerard’s direction, or appear conscious that he had joined the party. she seemed to have eyes for no one but denver, and it was impossible to doubt that, so far from being disposed to resent the attentions of the young american, she was doing her best to attract him, and succeeding perfectly in the attempt.
nobody indeed appeared to have the least doubt of what was going on; and arthur aldington, during one of the rare intervals when he was not engrossed with cora, laughed as he looked in the direction of the two, and remarked to gerard that there[214] was little doubt that america was going to carry off one of our english beauties.
gerard could not control all show of his indignation at the suggestion.
“she’s only flirting with him,” he said.
arthur laughed dryly.
“it’s more than that, i think, and so do the rest of the family. ask mrs. van santen.”
indeed the old lady had been beaming benevolently upon the young people for some time, as gerard knew. and the knowledge that rachel was thus openly avowing her preference for and encouragement of the man whom he considered a “bounder” oppressed and irritated him in equal degree.
in vain he struggled against his uneasiness, his anger. and at last, afraid of trusting himself among the sharp eyes which could, he did not doubt, fathom the distress he was suffering, he withdrew from the party, and rejoined his own.
but the evening was heavy and gloomy for him, and he felt that his very presence was casting depression over his friends, so he presently excused himself, and leaving them, was hurrying out of the grounds, when he chanced to catch sight of the americans once more, and saw rachel, still with denver in close attendance, but with a look in her eyes which he recognized as no longer one of idle amusement, but of acute anxiety.
a moment later, as he was close to the gates,[215] he felt a touch on his arm, and looking round, found arthur aldington beside him.
“one moment, buckland, miss davison sent me to say she would like to speak to you before you go away. if you’ll wait near the seat by the trees over there, she’ll find an opportunity of escaping, and i’ll bring her there myself.”
gerard hesitated.
“she won’t be able to get rid of that van santen,” said he sullenly, as he glanced behind him.
“trust a woman—especially a woman like rachel—for getting rid of anyone she wants to get rid of,” said arthur. “and really my own opinion is that it would be an awful thing for her if she were to think seriously of that bounder.”
gerard echoed the word inquiringly.
arthur nodded.
“men don’t like the fellow,” he explained. “he’s too noisy, too—too overbearing; too much side and too much swagger. it’s amazing to everybody that a well-bred woman like miss davison should put up with him for a moment. it’s the money, i suppose. well, will you come?”
gerard nodded silently. it was of no use to try to be wise where rachel was concerned. he could only hope to escape being utterly foolish, and without much prospect of success.
two minutes later he was waiting at the appointed spot, and in another two minutes rachel herself,[216] with arthur aldington, came up and met him there. arthur disappeared with a few words from rachel, who arranged that he should fetch her in ten minutes and take her back to the van santens, and then she and gerard were once more alone together.
the change in her was so sudden, so great, that he could scarcely believe his eyes. every trace of the brilliant manner, of the laughing face, the light, easy manner, the slight affectation, which had distinguished her tone and manner but half an hour ago, when she was with denver and among the rest, had disappeared, and given place to a demeanor touching in its grave sadness.
“mr. buckland,” she began quite simply, as soon as arthur was out of earshot, “you must think me a strange creature, i’m afraid.”
“i don’t know what to think of you,” he replied desperately. “you seem to be, not one or two, but half a dozen women; and they’re all charming, though some of them—might well break a man’s heart.”
“i don’t want to break yours, or any man’s,” she said simply.
“you must break mine or van santen’s,” he said dryly, “if you go on acting as you’ve done this evening, being one woman, and a very sweet though puzzling one, to me, and quite another, a brilliant, charming one, to him. how am i to believe that you like one of us better than the other? you were certainly[217] doing your best to make him think he was the man you liked. i don’t want you to make a fool of me like that. i can’t deny that you could if you wished.”
she sighed softly.
“i’m not going to tell you i like you,” she said gently. “you are welcome, if you wish, to believe i don’t care in the least.”
“no, no, i’d rather you should pretend you cared for me—at least, i think i’d rather!” stammered poor gerard, who was struggling against the impulse to yield himself wholly to the personal fascination she exercised over him.
she looked at him steadily, but with eyes so mournful, so full of some deep-seated distress, that he was seized by an overpowering desire to know what the secret was which made her such a tantalizing, maddening mystery. why was she so sweet to him, after having been but a short time before in his very presence, just as irresistible, in a wholly different fashion, to another man?
was she a coquette, after all? was she only trying to show her power, by bringing to her feet a man whom she had recently disgusted by her open encouragement of another?
miss davison read his thoughts.
“i don’t pretend—to you,” she said simply. “i don’t tell you i care for you. you can think, if you like, that i like someone else better.”
[218]“but i don’t like to think so!” burst out poor gerard.
she went on imperturbably.
“you may think, if you like, that, overpowered, dazzled by the thought of marrying a rich man, and being out of reach of poverty, and saved from the necessity of hard and distasteful work any longer, i have decided to encourage the attentions of a man who is deeply in love with me, and who could undoubtedly enable me, if i married him, to live an easy and leisurely life. you may think, if you like, that i am quite at liberty to do this, and that it is the wisest thing i could do. you may think, too, if you please, that this rich man is not exactly the sort of man i should have chosen if i had been quite free to choose, but that, not being quite free, i was justified in encouraging, and in accepting him.”
“but are you sure he is rich, and that he is not merely dependent upon the pleasure or caprice of a father who may, or may not, approve of him and intend to leave him well off?” argued poor gerard earnestly. “miss davison, believe me, i wouldn’t be selfish and mean enough to say a word against this young van santen if i could think him worthy of you. believe me, though i own i’m jealous of him, i wouldn’t show unworthy or despicable jealousy of him or of any man. but it has occurred to me to doubt whether he is the sort of man you ought to trust yourself with. and i should like, if i may[219] dare, to beg you not to definitely give your promise to marry him until his father has arrived in england, and until you’ve made sure that the young ones are really going to be well off.”
miss davison smiled faintly.
“do you want me to make sure of my bargain then, before i sign?” she asked.
“yes,” answered he steadily, “i do. i know i’m jealous: i own it. i think this denver van santen is not good enough for you. but i understand your point of view, and i sympathize with you; and therefore, i say, if as i suppose, you propose to marry this man, not because you care particularly about him, but because he is well off and can make life easier for you, do not be in too great a hurry over it: make sure, before you promise, that the other side is in a situation to bring to the bargain all you expect of it. it sounds a cold-blooded way of speaking, i know, but, believe me, coldness is the last thing you need accuse me of where you are concerned.”
miss davison listened with the same air of profound and serious interest that she had given to him earlier in the evening.
“you’re quite right,” she said at last. “then whatever happens, i shall take your advice, and i shan’t definitely accept denver until i’ve seen his father.”
gerard assented eagerly.
[220]“yes, that’s what i meant,” he said quickly. “if old van santen, whom everybody seems to speak well of, should agree to the match, and if you should like him and get on well with him, then i say you might have a chance of happiness with the son; but—”
he stopped.
“but what?”
gerard looked up, half shyly.
“i don’t think it would become me to say any more,” he said frankly, “considering, as i’ve told you, that i’m jealous.”
again a faint smile flickered over rachel’s face, then, in a sweet, low voice, she said—
“i like you to be jealous, mr. buckland.”
but he burst out passionately—
“don’t. you have no right to use me like this, no right to send for me to talk about your intended marriage with another man, and then—and then—to try—to try—”
“to try to make you see that i’m grateful for the interest you’ve taken in me, that i appreciate your generosity, that i take pleasure in your society? is that what i have no right to do, mr. buckland?”
but gerard would not be brow-beaten. he stuck to his guns.
“yes,” he said stoutly, “that’s what i contend. if you, knowing as you do that i’m madly in love with you, that i’ve loved you through everything,[221] in the face of mysteries and secrets which were enough to make me decide never to speak to you again, in the face of—other things of which i scarcely dare speak—if you, knowing all this, as i say, have sent for me only to tell me you’re grateful for my interest and all the rest of it, you’re treating me badly. you have no right to try to make me think of you more than i do, no right even to be kind, unless—unless—”
he paused, and she answered steadily—
“unless i’m prepared to give up my career, my position, my friends, even, all for you? is that what you mean?”
she said this with raised eyebrows, as if expecting him to receive her speech with a denial; but he took up the challenge at once.
“yes,” he said, “that, i suppose, is what i do mean. i don’t think you ought to encourage a man to the extent you are encouraging that young van santen, and to try to encourage me—at the same time. it doesn’t matter when a girl plays that sort of game with men who don’t really care for her. but this yankee fellow appears to be in earnest, and by jove! you can’t pretend to know that i’m not. you ought to make up your mind, and throw over the one, and stick to the other.”
“i don’t think you appreciate the difficulty of my position, mr. buckland.”
“i don’t suppose i do. how can i? you don’t[222] take me into your confidence. and i’m ready to do without that. all i ask is that you should decide for your own happiness. if you think you will be happier with van santen for a husband than with me, why marry him and be happy; but i don’t believe, somehow, that you do think that. i don’t think you would send for me if you had nothing but that to tell me. come, rachel, why did you send for me? what had you to tell me?”
miss davison’s handsome face quivered.
“i almost wish,” she said, “now, that i hadn’t sent for you; but—” suddenly her face changed, and he saw a look of intense pain pass over it. “i couldn’t bear that—you should think—i didn’t care. and—only i don’t want you to ask me why—i didn’t dare to offend denver by letting him think i cared for you.”
“still, you need not have turned away from me as you did, without a word. you might have given me a word, a smile, a look.”
rachel’s breath came quickly, her face softened, her eyes grew tender, and she whispered—
“i didn’t dare!”
the words were an admission, and in a moment gerard was close beside her, looking into her face, begging her not to play with him.
“you love me, rachel, you love me, and not this fellow! why don’t you own it? why can’t you throw him over, and tell him and everyone that you[223] care for me, that you’re going to marry me? don’t worry your head about your career, about money, about anything. i can’t make you rich at once, but i’m not quite a pauper even now. you will have to make some sacrifices, but they won’t be so hard. your mother will not mind living in a smaller house, and your sister has had a year’s schooling, and lady jennings will take charge of her, and bring her out and all that. even for your family there’s no need for you to sacrifice your own happiness any longer. rachel, rachel, say that you will cut yourself off from all these people whom you hate and whom you are afraid of, and make up your mind to be happy.”
she was deeply moved by his passionate words, and her tears were falling fast. but she was steadfast, even in her sorrow.
“i can’t,” she said. “you mustn’t ask me why, but i can’t. i know i’ve been selfish to ask you to come to speak to me, but i couldn’t let you go like that—thinking i was like a stone. i’m involved—too deeply to get free. there—that’s all i dare tell you. and now you had better try to forget me; it’s the only thing to do. i’ve thought it over, indeed, and i can’t get free, and i can’t move independently.”
this admission passionately uttered, was a terrible shock to gerard.
“but what will the end be—it must have an end?” he asked quickly.
she turned upon him a look of intense alarm.
[224]“an end! what do you mean?”
he spoke out boldly—
“you don’t suppose it can go on forever? that the mystery will never be found out? that you can go on forever escaping by the skin of your teeth?”
a faint smile, confident if not very happy, appeared on her features.
“i’m in clever hands, very clever hands,” she said.
“but the work revolts you! it’s horrible—shocking!”
“well, we won’t discuss that now. i’ve told you before all that i could tell you about it. there’s arthur coming for me. i must go.”
“one moment. tell me honestly: would you give everything up and marry me, if you could?”
she hesitated.
“i don’t know whether i dare answer you truly; but i will—if you will promise to take no advantage of what i say.”
“i promise.”
“well then, yes, i would throw over everything—if i could.”
he touched her arm trembling and hoarse.
“now promise me just this, that you will make one appeal—one strong appeal—this week, at once, and try to get free; and let me know if you succeed. you will, if your heart is set on it, i know.”
she shook her head drearily.
“you overrate my determination, my strength of[225] will, all the fine and noble qualities which, somehow or other, you still contrive to imagine in me,” said she gently. “i have no such force of character as you think. i’m a poor, wretched puppet, dancing to anyone who is clever enough to play the right tune. don’t hope, don’t hope.”
“i do hope, all the same,” cried he passionately, and hurriedly, as arthur, perceiving that he was coming too soon, delayed a little, and lingered just out of earshot. “i want you to make this appeal, and to let me know the result. will you? will you?”
she smiled sadly.
“i can tell you the result already,” said she despondently; “but if you like, i will make it.”
he had no time to say more, for arthur had joined them, rather sheepishly, rather bewildered. he carried miss davison back to her friends, and then caught gerard up as he was leaving the grounds, having made him a sign that he wanted a word with him.
as soon as the two young men met, arthur spoke—
“rachel is treating you badly,” said he.
“how do you mean?”
“well, she’s encouraging you, i could see by her looks, and yours. but—she’s engaged to denver van santen all the time.”
gerard was startled.
[226]“are you sure?”
“denver says so—so do the family. it’s looked upon as settled.”
gerard laughed harshly; but he would not believe.
“they may think so, but they may make too sure,” he said.
arthur aldington threw at him a compassionate look, as one does at a man, once intelligent and amiable, who has just been declared a lunatic. but the words which rose to his lips, words of congratulation to gerard on his escape, he thought it wiser not to utter.
